


Ke'sa'lul (I throw you gently into a fire)

by dee_thequeenbee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, F/M, Game of Thrones References, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dee_thequeenbee/pseuds/dee_thequeenbee
Summary: Modern Game of Thrones AU. Regina and Robin come from ancient families, and the dangers they're about to face already happened eons ago. They'll fight their common enemy, only to find out that a greater enemy is closer than they thought.this has been written as part of the Love from OQ 2019 exchange.for Miles, who is a brilliant friend of mine, and i hope will love this piece. thank you for everything you do and for how much light you bring into the world!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FraiseDandelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FraiseDandelion/gifts).



> this au is a modern game of thrones au, set in westeros, and inspired by a youtube video.  
> you don't need to have seen GoT to understand it, (even if there may be some references here and there). as you know how the GoT universe is, there are some trigger warnings for references to torture, violence, rape and strong language.  
> thanks to Sarah for her help, when i was weaving the plot's threads. dude, i'm sorry this story is late for your breakfast time.  
> the title is, i believe, a word from the language of the Mi'kmaq, a community of First Nation people in the ancient canada and maine.  
> enjoy!  
> Xx
> 
> also, here's the video that inspired the story. watch it as a trailer of sorts.

.

 

 

_._

_Trust me. Fear cuts deeper than swords._

_._

(Look at this prodigious Wall.  
It has changed.  
Winter is coming.  
And the dead will come with it.)

_._

_But I can assure you._

_There is nothing to fear._

_There is nothing behind the Wall._

– § –

Her husband’s words are still echoing in her mind, even hours after the speech. 

 _There is nothing to fear_. _There is nothing behind the Wall._

How she wishes she could believe that. But every time Regina rises in the morning, she thinks of the Wall. Every time she goes to sleep, she prays it’ll hold on.

And most of all, she thinks of him.

Her long lost lover.

.:.

He finds her almost as soon as he returns to Queen’s Landing. His long lost lover.

Well, she’s not lost. He has always known where she was, ever since they have been separated. But seeing her – although from the fogged window of a pub – has awoken feelings in him, of the sort he believed long died and buried.

The place has changed. But that’s natural, because he hasn’t seen it since many years. And these years  hasn’t been easy – he has bleed and cried and screamed and suffered, during these years, and when he thought of her, oh. His torture seemed almost a pouring cascade of honey, compared to what she must have suffered. They’ve kept him informed; of course he wanted to know, but that came later.

For now, he’s back in the capital, and has no intention of leaving again without her.

.:.

Her day starts like any other day, slowly and painfully.

The rhythmic pounding of her husband’s dick inside her, and she just turns her head to the side and waits for him to finish. There’s a window, on her side of the bed. She always looks at the tree outside, as Keith takes her – always in the same way, and she’s grateful for it – she just stealthily lubes herself up before he wakes, and then she can endure the morning session with more ease.

Today, she notices. The tree has lost all its leaves.

( _Winter is coming, my sweet summer child,_ her old nanny’s voice comes. _Oh, I pray you’re strong enough to face it, my dear_.)

Her husband leaves her be without attending to her needs, so if she’s so inclined, she usually takes care of it herself. But today, today she opens the window and smells snow in the air.

Fuck, no.

 _It’s too soon_ , her heart cries. She thought she’d have more time, more time to plan everything, to collect what she needs and… most importantly, to break the spells that keep her bound.

.:.

Robin knows people. A certain kind of people.

People who act in the shadows and who slither through the mechanisms of the wheel, people who helped him escape, people who are plotting since years for him to come back between the living. Between those who don’t live so dangerously close to the Wall, those who can still pretend winter isn’t coming.

Those people weren’t happy, when he mentioned Regina, but as soon as they understood who she is – they’ve immediately agreed that they must save her.

 _Too late_ , he has told them, _why didn’t you save her earlier? Why did you let a daughter of the Targaryens rot into that disgust of dirty luxury and diseases that is Queen’s Landing?_

 _Because it was too soon. The world wasn’t ready yet_ , they’ve answered. But Robin is done listening to those people, who call themselves the Black Hand. He is done with them because they think they can control the faith of those who live underneath. And just because it looks like he’s so important for their cause, he decided he can demand this, of them.

To save Regina. Because he has no doubt – if she could have saved herself, she would have, by now.

.:.

The First Lady of Westeros is often busy with her political engagements – nothing too important, just crumbles of events that Keith Lannister has left her so that she doesn’t get too bored.  
But today she has a free evening. Of course they’ll follow her – they always follow her, her bodyguards, the Falcons. Supposedly there to make her feel safe, and instead they she feels spied.

Tonight she’ll take part to the most famous party of the town, where alcohol and drugs and whores will entertain the numerous clients, and she doesn’t want to go. Her husband isn’t coming. He has his own entertainment, Keith – and how she wishes that the whores he’s paying would help her avoid his attentions in the morning. She’d be completely fine with it. Happy, even.

And yet.

She gets ready with too little glee and too much sorrow.

A black dress, fished out randomly from her closet, and white heels and a white fur, and that’s it. The limousine will take her there, to the High Sparrow, with its green pulsing lights and too much amphetamine around, then she’ll dismount the car and – thirty minutes, tops, and she’s going home.

Her stomach is still in knots by the time they reach the Ruins of the Sept – her hand sinks into Shadow’s fur, to calm herself down. The direwolf softly whines, as if she’s sensing her mistress’ fear.

“The show must go on, darling,” she sighs.

And yet she’s able to make an entrance – her heels clicking on the dance floor, Shadow close behind as the crowd lets her pass. She goes to say hello to the owner, and to some of the most important politicians she meets. _Oh, Mrs Lannister, it’s so good to see you. Looks like you are in good shape_.

She makes a beeline for the bar as soon as it’s considered barely polite to leave them behind.

The barman knows her. She doesn’t even ask for her favorite drink, but he hands it to her almost immediately. And he winks. And when he leaves her hand, Regina knows why. And it’s hard to open the little note and read it without her Falcons knowing.

 _Women’s_ _Bathroom_ , it says.

She gulps, and it takes all her acting skills not to show her emotions, because she recognized the handwriting. She forces herself to drink slowly, standing there next to the counter, avoiding the barman’s eyes, and when she’s done she places the glass down, and heads to the bathroom.

“Mrs Lannister?”

One of them asks, worry on his face, but she graces him with her most delicious smile.

“The toilet.”

“Oh,” he says, relieved. Then he motions as if to follow her – she splays her hand on his chest.

“At least the bathroom,” she hisses, her voice low and cutting. “Shadow will stay with you. I trust you can lose me from your sight for a moment, while I piss?”

“I… yes, ma’am,” he says, resigned.

Regina smiles, satisfied. He was almost too easy. She motions for Shadow to stay – and goes, opens the door, closes it, and turns to face the empty room.

Almost empty.

.:.

“Robin,” she breathes. Her voice is exactly how he remembers.

“Regina,” he answers, too stunned to properly greet her. In an instant, she’s in his arms, her perfume surrounding him like a wave, her palms on his back and her nose pressed against the crook of his shoulder. Her lips touch his neck, then her forehead falls and she holds on tighter.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He pulls back – doesn’t want to, but he does, just so he can look at her. Tears are brimming  her eyes, and when one escapes, he captures it with his thumb.

“You alright?” he asks, frantic. “Did they hurt you, are you okay?”

“We haven’t much time,” she avoids the question, averts her gaze. “When can I see you again? For longer?”

“Tonight, I’ll get into the castle,” he promises. “That bastard isn’t sleeping with you, right?”

“Depends what you mean with sleeping,” she laughs bitterly. “But no, we have separate rooms. He… comes to me in the morning. Sometimes in the evenings too.”

“After midnight then. Now go,” he urges her. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she whispers, squeezes his hand and glances at him, just for a moment.

And then she goes.

.:.

The only problem is, that Keith is still there at midnight.

He’s drunk – he passed out in the chair next to her door, after trying to have her, but he couldn’t even manage to climb on her bed. She’s looking at her watch, then at the window, then at the watch again, hoping, praying Robin doesn’t choose this moment to arrive.

She knocks at the door – she knows one of the Falcons is there, they’re always there. He opens.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Good evening,” she says, politely, forcing out a smile. “It appears the prime minister isn’t… in great shape tonight. Can you maybe arrange for someone to come and collect him? I just think he’d rest better in his own bed, that’s it.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he tells her, and mutters something into his earpiece. “The servants are on their way.”

“Thank you,” she answers, flashing him the most generous smile she can conjure. She resist the temptation of looking at her phone, and waits impatiently with him until four servants of the House round the corner and join them. “He’s on the armchair,” she says, stepping aside to let them in.

While they work to lift Keith, there’s a glimpse of a shadow out the window. Regina sees it with the corner of her eye. Her heart suddenly increases its rate and she gulps, then moves to help the servants, praying Robin will understand the situation and that he won’t put himself in danger. Not for her, not again.

The seconds tickle slowly, so slowly she swears someone must have done something to time. She smiles nervously to one of the servants who’s thanking her, and orders with slightly trembling voice, “That’s all, thank you. And now – I don’t wish to be disturbed until tomorrow morning. Yes, goodnight,” she almost cuts, and closes the door against the nearest Falcon.

Alone at last.

.:.

Robin is inside before she can even lock the door.

She turns and runs in his arms, like she did earlier, except now she’s wearing a see-through black shirt and shorts, and he grimaces when he thinks this is how Lannister wants her, for sure, even in this chilly almost-winter and she’ll catch a cold, although she’s unbelievably _beautiful_ …

But she pushes back, now, her gaze hard and pained. “Thank you for coming,” she tells him, searching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Are you alright?”

“Am I… Regina, between the two of us, I’m not the one who’s being hold prisoner by our enemies,” he reasons, looking at her, his thumb brushing lightly her cheek. “Are _you_ alright?”

“I could be better,” she avoids the question. “I locked Shadow in the bathroom, if you want to see her. But we have to be careful, I don’t want her to make noise, or they’ll come fast as light.”

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll… go say hello then.”

It puzzles him, this weird welcome he’s received, but she precedes him to the master bathroom and slowly pushes the door open. He spies from the crack of the door, sees her kneeled down, securing a muzzle around Shadow so she won’t bark when she recognizes him.

“Come in,” she whispers.

Robin steps in, and he’s almost knocked down by his direwolf, who jumps towards him and – oh, how tall she’s become, how beautiful, he scratches her and lets her express all her joy, and he thinks he can see a hint of a smile on Regina’s face.

“Alright, alright,” she joins them, all three of them crouched down, and pets Shadow for a moment. “Now, stay, darling,” she commands, slow and kind. “Yes, just like that. Yes. We’ll see you later, yeah?”

She smiles at the wolf, and he’s struck by some sort of quick horrible pain, when he thinks Shadow must be her only friend inside the castle.

“Let’s go,” she tells him, motions to her bedroom. “We have a lot to talk about.”

.:.

She missed him so much it physically hurts.

So when he follows her and sits on the bed, whispering in hushed tones something about the people who are helping him, she nearly cries. Almost, because she doesn’t want to give up so soon, because in this stage of the game she has to be calm and collected, cannot afford herself to lose her self control.

It all goes tumbling down when Robin’s words stops, and he looks at her, pensive, and leans in to press a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes squeeze close and a tear escapes as he brushes her hair away from her shoulders, his hand caressing her back slowly, then going up to the crown of her head.

It’s almost like old times.

Her right hand goes to find her left, in an instinctive reflex, she strokes her annular before realizing she doesn’t have his ring anymore. Their engagement ring.

Keith took it – he took everything, her dignity, her name, her body, until there was nothing left.

That’s it – the absence of the ring, that ghostly ring she sometimes still feels on her finger, that’s the last straw. She takes a deep breath, feels a sob already about to wrack her body, but before she can let her emotions overcome her, Robin speaks.

“What is this? I saw it earlier at the club, I thought it was part of your outfit, but…”

He trails off, and she stays silent, as his fingers study the item. She waits, knowing they’re second away before he figures it out. Holds her breath, and he – he gets there, there, where she didn’t want him ever.

“Regina…” he says slowly, his tone so low, so dangerous. “This… did he do this to you, did he put this… collar on you?”

She doesn’t want to answer, but she has to.

“The Maester of the House did,” Regina murmurs, not daring to meet his eyes. “But yes. It dampens my magic, bounds me to him, and reminds me of what I’ve become.”

A beat, and he whispers, “By all the gods, what a monster.”

She feels his breaths, his hand squeezes hers almost painfully for a moment, and she knows he’s full of the rage he’s trying to control. He doesn’t want to explode in front of her. She knows he’s channeling this rage for the moment when he meets her husband.

And then he says one single word, that makes her heart bleed in pain.

“Mal?”

“She’s in the dungeon,” she answers, her gaze fixed on their hands. “They let me see her once a week. They mostly leave her alone, but she isn’t allowed to fly, and – ” finally, she finds the courage to look at him, finds his eyes shining of tears. “Robin, if we stay much longer, we… I don’t know for how long I can hold on. I’m afraid I’ll break, soon.”

To admit it, it cost her more than she thought, because her next breath is shaky and pained.

“Oh, Regina,” he says, pulling her to him, and she goes willingly. “I promise you – I swear, I’ll find a way to free you. Just hold on a bit longer.”

“I want to kill him,” she mutters against his neck. “I want them to pay.”

“I know,” he says against her hair. “I know.”

.:.

He isn’t able to come back to the castle for a month.

Every day he spends away from her, every day she spends in captivity deepens his wounds, and he’s pained when he wonders if she thinks he must have abandoned her.

He can’t send her messages, because he risked it already, but he can plan for her escape, and every ounce of energy he pours into scheming her breakout is the only energy well spent.

The world, meanwhile, is changing.

He doesn’t want to pay attention to it, because freeing Regina comes first than whatever is happening in Westeros. But news reach him even if he is unwilling to hear them.

Riots are taking place all over the country, the crowd waving the banner of the Starks. The Boltons still have Winterfell, holding it safe and secluded, always under Keith Lannister’s control. But whispers come from the scouts in the North, a raven comes from his best friend John, who stayed at the Wall and took care of it in Robin’s absence. The blue-eyed are back, and the Dead are rising again.

The keepers of the books are also in turmoil, because this hasn’t happened since the time of the Last Great War, when the world still lived without electricity or indoor plumbing, but there were two Queens and Robin’s ancestors still ruled the North.

He prays that people will believe the stories, this time.

Because he knows how it ended the last time – and the people of Westeros have almost been wiped out, and the Blue Dragon was free on Earth. He prays this time they’ll all present a united front, and give the scepter to someone who can actually lead the country as a united entity against the blue-eyed.

He feels like he’s running out of time.

And he dreams of Regina, of fire, of a black dragon – of a man with hands of ice around his neck.

.:.

_Mal is not good at waiting._

_The chains chafe her skin, her wings quiver and she yearns the skies._

_She doesn’t dare to roast her caretakers with a single, glorious flame – because if she does, that horrible man may starve her to death, and who will look after her Rider then?_

_Mal’s dreams are full of smoke and death. Of freedom._

_She’s not good at waiting, but waiting is the only thing she can do._

.:.

Regina tries to run.

She never tried, after that first time, a couple of years ago – the way they… disciplined her after she’d been caught had definitely snuffed out any residual desire of trying to escape. But seeing Robin brought her a new kind of hope, and then not seeing him for a month brought her despair, and so she thought she should take the matter in her own hands. After all, as her husband kindly said when he took the time to inform her, the one person who could actually save her was busy organizing riots around Westeros. ( _Wretched, filthy ungrateful bastards. Have I not done enough for this country? Power is power, Regina, and he’s fighting a lost battle_.) She has tried telling herself that one month was nothing, that she has been patient until now, so why lose hope?

But then Keith has secretly sentenced to death five Karstark people and forced her to watch the execution, so no, she wasn’t going to stay one minute longer.

Her plan was well-thought, now that she knew about the turns of the guards, about the castle and the secret hallways, but it wasn’t enough. Evidently.

She really tried.

Except now she really is having second thoughts about her little impromptu escape.

.

Her whole body hurts.

It lasted for hours, it was extremely painful, and she only remembers falling into some sort of trance, Keith’s cruel smile as a man with a black hood hovered over her. She knows she passed out at some point, the electric current besting her and the flames of her veins, the cursed torture that came so close to ending her life, alive just by a thread – and that they threw her somewhere, but only after three days she’s able to fully wake up.

And she finds Mal’s wise eyes looking at her.

Her dragon is worried, she can see it – she can’t talk to her, because of the collar her dearest husband put on her, it blocks the mental connection to Mal, and she can only whisper a weak _Hi_ , before passing out again.

.

At some point, Mal’s conscience and voice finally reach her again, enveloping her mind like a warm hug.

 _Little one_ , she hears, her voice pouring with relief. _Hold on, little one. You’re safe now_.

Hands are touching her – strong, kind hands on her skin and her neck, something long forgotten shimmering again in her veins, a hand cradling her head and lips on her forehead. There’s a different set of hands dancing down her body, smaller, a perfume of flowers and musk weaving together, something fresh and oily being spread on her skin.

She’s being lifted up, Mal’s eyes giving her a confused image of what’s happening, because her own are closed and puffy.

“I can carry her,” a younger voice offers, but – Robin, it’s Robin who’s carrying her, he tightens his hold and says _No, I want to do it._

 _Sleep now, Regina_ , Mal murmurs softly.

.:.

He stays at her side until she wakes.

And how difficult it is – a road trip through Westeros, with Mal who has to fly only during the nights, and them soldiering their way towards the North. The Black Hand spies were not happy about him wanting to save Regina, but he has told them, it’s both of us or none. And judging by the way the people of Westeros are chanting their surnames in the streets, he can very well say the Black Hand made the right choice.

She sleeps a lot, in the back of their van. Slips in and out of consciousness. He gives her water and broth when he catches her eyes fluttering open, and he helps her relieve herself. He knows they’d wish him to be in the other van, where they’re doing the planning of the siege of Winterfell, but he doesn’t want to leave her – not when his own incompetence almost cost her his life.

Mal speaks to him sometimes – she tries to lessen his pain, to tell him it was Regina’s choice and that she didn’t really blame him for not being faster, but he knows it’s a bunch of lies. That Regina must have been almost at her breaking point.

She starts getting better after a couple of days, when they’ve almost reached the Moat Cailin.

And her first words are for her husband.

“Robin…” she murmurs. “Is… is Keith… dead?”

.:.

“He is, darling,” Robin says, warmth and affection in his voice. “I would have left you to do the honors, but you see, I couldn’t let the chance pass.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes closing, relief washing over her.

_He’s dead. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you now. You’re safe._

She doesn’t cry, but smiles, feels Robin’s lips press on her forehead.

“Mal? Shadow?”

“They’re both fine,” he answers, ever so patient. “They can’t wait to see you.”

“As do I,” she says. “I… I think I’ve slept enough. I want… I want to be myself again.”

“Of course.” There’s something pained and so, so grave in his expression, as he tentatively leans in towards her. “Regina… I’m sorry about all of this, I – ”

“I know – you shouldn’t have left me there for so long. I’m sorry, I…” her face turns away from him, but she doesn’t miss the guilt in his eyes. “I’ll fight with you, and for my family, may they rest in peace. And I still love you, so much. And – I need time, Robin.”

“I understand,” he tells her, serious. It surprises her, how he immediately accepted her wishes, and she wonders if it is because she’s lived with someone who _didn’t_ for so long she’s not accustomed to it anymore, or because she remembered Robin to be different.

And it pains her.

.

The evening is crisp when she sees the outside world again. They’ve reached a point where the snow covers everything in sight – she just now notices how she’s bundled up, how every inch of her body is covered with the warmest pieces of clothing. Regina inhales the cold air of the North, the fire shimmering in her veins battles against the chilly wind – and the hot steak sandwich they gave her, with delicious greasy oil impregnating the bread, it tastes like freedom.

She meets Robin’s men, and Shadow resumes her habit to follow her anywhere. She embraces Mal’s neck and feels the humming of her dragon’s throat, as a whirlwind of thoughts welcome her, _I’ve missed you, little one. You shouldn’t have been so reckless._

But Robin leads her to her tent and gives her a thermal sleeping bag, and just as he’s about to leave her alone she drags him back into the tent.

“You’ve left me alone for too long already. Sleep with me. I cannot – I…”

“I know,” he whispers, easily. “I’ll just hold you till the dawn comes.”

.:.

_Mal has, weirdly, enjoyed the battle of Winterfell. It was always a recipe for massacre, she believes. A dragon and an army of rebels against a bunch of weak usurpers who didn’t know better than to stay in a place that didn’t belong to them?_

_She remembers fire – so much fire, and Regina’s weight above her, arrows flying from her bow towards the men who dared to violate her home. Ashes and burnt banners, and she really tried not to burn the castle, and Robin’s plan to lure the usurpers out so that she could roast them, and a selected group of scouts infiltrated in the castle to take it from the inside._

_Regina’s blood smelled like metal and salt, but when her Rider dismounted at the end of the battle, Mal has seen her – a fury in grey armor and chainmail – running to her lover and kissing him amidst dead bodies – well, she has seen death and glory, and longed for her long lost companion._

.:.

“…I’m sorry, say that again?”

“The master bedroom, Lady Regina. Lord Stark said that if you desire so, you can both share it.”

“Oh, well… alright. Thank you, Olivia. And… don’t call me that. The gods know I’m not a lady anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Lady… uh… Regina. Regina.” The girl smiles at her and leaves her room, or for lack of a better word, the rooms she’s temporarily occupied to clean her wounds and take a quick nap. There’ll be a time for celebrations, but right now she just wants some peace and quiet.

Regina dresses herself with an old dress she’s found in a wardrobe – it’s simple, a blue gown and a light blue corset, with weird sleeves that start from the lower half of her forearm. It’s no dress for winter, for sure. She’ll have to find, or make, different dresses with leather pants and fur capes and hoods, but right now the warmth of the fire runs so pleasantly through all the castle and adrenaline runs through her veins, she actually isn’t cold.

She’s antsy.

And – she still remembers the secret passageways. Her hand goes almost naturally to push the right book in the library, to press the right buttons, and the door opens. She carries a flashlight in the corridor, miraculously devoid of spider-webs – not even spiders dare to venture this north. She knocks at his door.

“Regina?”

“Hello, Robin,” she whispers. “May I come in?”

He nods, lets her through. He’s clearly surprised, but she knows why. Between her ordeal with her – now dead – husband, and the battle, it’s a wonder how she didn’t pass out hours ago.

“I’m alright, I promise,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “Is Shadow here?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I… will you stay here tonight?”

She tightens her hold on his hand. “I want to stay for tonight and for all the nights to come.”

He’s kissing her before she knows, and she moans and melts into the kiss, his hand sinking into her hair as she leaves his other hand to grab his shirt and his forearms. Robin breaks the kiss after a moment, as if he didn’t want to push too far, and his forehead falls against hers.

.:.

They make love slowly, tenderly, discovering each other’s bodies all over again. It’s theirs, this moment, it’s a safe melody inside an ocean of war and cold. But just for now, just for a few hours, they’ll enjoy their safe haven. They make love as lovers who didn’t see each other for months, he passes his hands on her body and marvels at the scars and freckles – but he hasn’t forgotten, how could he, when this image of her has been what saved him during the cold nights at the Wall. And she marvels of him, of his scars and the signs of the whip, of what he endured as he was forced to stay up north.

He touches her and rediscovers her pulse points, her eyes close and stars explode against the black of the night, and when he sinks into her she stifles a scream and her lip bleeds, her mouth then devouring his as she rocks against him with the cry of more, of deeper. And they come together and they feel at the top of the world, glorious and victorious, and they forget their issues and shoot for the stars.

The flames of the fire burn and the candles glow.

Outside the window, the first proper snowstorm starts blooming.

And winter finally comes.

.:.

He watches her, seated on the carpet, her eyes fixated on the fire. He stretches on the chair, his boot only halfway up his foot, and asks her. “What’s on your mind, love?”

“Hm?” She turns towards him, but her eyes are miles away for just an instant, until she focuses on him and smiles softly. “Nothing,” she says. “I’m worried. I’m sorry,” she grimaces, “I didn’t mean to, but…” her hand sets on his knee, then above his thigh. “I don’t want this to end. Life. Not now that… that I found a reason to live again.”

He thinks he sees the slightest hint of blush on her cheeks, but with the warmth of the fire beside her he cannot be sure.

“Regina…” he says slowly. “You know we’re going to have to fight. The… the Dead are coming.”

A chill seems to invade the room and creep up his back after his whispered words. Regina looks at him, solemnly, her eyes bright. “It is true, then.”

“I’m afraid so, my love. They sent a raven while you were sleeping. A man with blue eyes has been captured near the Wall, and… they’re back, yes.”

“Alright.” She closes her eyes for a long moment, letting the acceptance draw on her, and then when he meets her gaze again, something has changed. It’s harder. “So be it.”

He finds her hand, intertwines their fingers. “We know how to fight them, this time,” he reasons. “We have the ancient books from the Last Great Winter War, the ones Master Tarly wrote, and we have the right weapons, and… we’re better equipped, we are going to make it.”

She squeezes his hand, murmurs, “I still could lose you. Again.”

“As I could lose you,” he answers in kind, his other hand lifting and threading through her hair. “But I’ll go gladly, knowing I’ve sacrificed myself to make the world better and safer, for you to live in.”

Her eyes are full of tears now, and he feels like crying himself as he bends and kisses her. Their kiss is salty and beautiful, and –

It doesn’t feel like a farewell.

.:.

They head up North, towards the Wall, towards the Dead.

Regina drives – says she’s missed it, and as he was reluctant to inflict her hours of driving, but she has insisted. Has spent those hours with her hand on the steering wheel, her other hand intertwined with Robin’s – and the car speeding across the roads of the North, already cleared from the snow.

They mostly keep it silent, a soft music lulling them into fake relaxation. It looks like they’re doing everything they can to avoid thinking of the task that awaits them.

She’s nervous.

She shouldn’t be – she’s faced and borne much worse than a swarm of people who refuse to properly die, no matter how blue their eyes are.

But Robin – Robin has fear in his eyes, because he has seen them already, and because she’s driving him home, to the Wall, to the old memoires of his torment, and every mile is a stab to him, she knows it. Sometimes, he lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles – she feels tears on her skin, once – but she never looks at him, because if she did, she’d stop driving entirely and envelop him in a hug, then they’d both mount on Mal and fly away from Westeros where no one can ever find them.

She won’t, because this is not who they are. They’ll face the danger until there’s no one left to fight for.

.:.

_Mal has missed flying. So much._

_The air caresses her body as an old friend, Welcome back, my dear. She sometimes wishes she could take Regina and the man she’s chosen as her mate, make them go away with her, but her Rider is untamable and incredibly generous with the people who let her be enslaved for so long._

_At least, she wishes they could go back to the Southern Lands where she was born. The perfumes and aromas of that time hit her nostrils and she frowns. She feels Regina’s thoughts and feelings from down below, and realizes she was hit by the same wave of memories._

_It feels good to be sharing her thoughts again. Although, Regina is stubborn as ever, and she has had her blocked out when Mal has tried telling her the truths she wanted to ignore._

_Because Regina won’t bleed again for nine months – because as soon as she mated with her companion, Mal knew immediately – but Regina is also trying not to think about it, that if she dies here, if Robin dies here, then her world will be shattered anyway._

Tell him _, Mal has said._ Tell him, little one, because if you don’t, I will _._

It is not yours to tell _, Regina has said._

Perhaps. But he deserves to know _._

After the battle _, it’s her amend._ I promise. After the battle, if we’re still alive _._

.:.

“You should try to sleep,” Robin tells her, the night before the battle. He enters their tent, scrolls snow down his boots and starts undressing himself. They’ve yet to reach Castle Black, so they have to use tents – but she’s not complaining, if this gives her unlimited access to her partner’s warm arms.

“I was waiting for you,” she says. “You had fun with your last minute training?”

“I’m still a bit rusty,” he tells her. “I don’t know how you managed to maintain your skills with weapons, during all these months.”

“The Lannisters have a great armory,” she lazily explains. “And my… husband… may he rot forever, he liked to watch as I trained. It feels good, to see how powerful is… the person whose soul you’re crushing.”

A moment of silence and, “Gods,” Robin rolls his eyes, and her heart swells just a little. “I am so glad he’s dead.”

“Stop talking of him then, and come here,” she says, snuggling further under her blanket. “I’ve missed you.”

When Robin crawls inside the enormous sleeping bag, she’s immediately awestruck by how _warm_ his body is. _Blood of the North_ , her nanny used to say. He smells of pine and snow, his toned muscles enveloping her in a hug, her head going to rest on his chest. She feels his lips give feathery kisses to her hair, so tender, her hand goes to press lightly against her belly. _I should tell him. I really should. But not now_.

“You okay, love?” he whispers.

“Just a bit tired,” she lies in a murmur. “I… You know, I’ve missed you in more than one way.”

“Oh did you,” he chuckles, and even if she can’t see it, she imagines his flashy smile. “Are you sure you’re tired?”

“Not _that_ tired,” she says. Hopes she can hide the trembling quality in her voice as she leans up and kisses him. He’s taken aback, maybe surprised, he lets out a little groan as she touches his forearm. “Oh, sorry,” she immediately stops, carefully watches his face. “You alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s just a mild bruise,” he tells her. “But I was enjoying what you were doing.”

“I bet you were,” she smiles at him, but a thought hits her, and he must know because he asks. He always knows.

“What is it?”

“I… I want to make love to you one last time,” she confesses. “You know, just… just to be sure.”

“Regina, we’re going to be fine,” he says, so serious, so convincing she almost believes him. “I won’t bed you, my love, if you’re going to think how this could be the last time for the whole time we’re together. I refuse for it to be the last. I promise you,” he turns her chin gently, makes her look into his eyes. “I promise you, as soon as this is done, we’re going to the caves of steam, up north across the Wall, and I’m going to make love to you for days. But I refuse to let you leave hope behind.”

It’s stronger than her will, this stinging of tears in her eyes. She averts her gaze and goes back to press her cheek on his chest, so he won’t see her as she dirties of salted water his skin.

He murmurs ancient lullabies to her, until she’s asleep.

.:.

Shadow wakes them at dawn. The morning air is exceptionally clean and the sky is blue, and Robin would think this is a good day to decide if he’s going to live or die.

The battle awaits.

His love awaits, and he would do anything to keep her safe, to keep her away from the bloodbath that is going to happen soon. 

The hours before the battle are always the worst. That waiting, that suspension of time, until the only thing he feels and cares about is Regina’s fingers intertwined to his. They wait, after crossing the Wall to the other side, they wait and wait and he experiences a fleeting though, that in the end he forgot to take Regina up on top of the Wall, to watch the dawn.

Too late now.

“They’re coming.”

Robin tightens his hold around his titanium bow, and prays.

.:.

_They wanted to give her an armor, but she knew better._

_She knew that these Dead cannot hurt her, that fire is what they fear, and this is right, she will be the last thing they see, their last nightmare, before they’ll all go up in flames._

_She waits, curled up on the top of the Wall, watches from above as the Dead come._

_And the humans, they seem so little and so… weak, in comparison. She hears and feels everything Regina does, and how weird it is to be safe up there and also down there with the sweat and musky fear of frightened men and women._

_The Dead come, and the battle begins._

_Banners of Westeros have meaning no more because this is the war of them all, humans against the dead, and their only chance exists if they join up together._

_Mal waits, and watches._

_Regina fights like a lioness – and how she looks like one, too, with her hair into a braid, and that cloak made of fur, the chainmail above her clothes, like an angel of death – who could be better to kill the Dead, in fact?_

_The dragonglass shines from her sword, the minuscule bullets piercing the dead skin of the enemy, but their swords sting and cut all the same as Mal carefully watches – she’ll have to intervene, and if all goes accordingly to the plan – the waves of thoughts from Regina are disjointed, jagged, as she feels the pain in her Rider’s arm and she roars her rage to the sky. The worry in Regina’s heart when she sees her companion brought away by the battle, that’s what makes Mal fly up and then down in a dive, almost touching the ground with her wings._

_Fire blazes from her maw, the Dead are burning, but she cannot help those who are already fighting against the Dead, least she kills them as well._

.:.

“Robin!”

The cry is so high-pitched, so annoying to the human ear, that she doesn’t realize it came from her.

She runs, ignoring the dead man so set on killing her, runs to where Robin is – where he was, because he has just fallen, the battle is just a cacophony of sounds and grunts and pain and Mal – Mal from up above who gives her a view of the battlefield, and tells her _I’m coming, little one_ , but Regina doesn’t want to be saved, she needs –

“Oh gods, no, no,” she falls down to his body, around them there’s space, she fires her gun and kills them, and prays his men will keep them safe while she sees to him. “Robin, my love,” she all but cries, crouching down. “No, don’t – don’t go, don’t you dare,”

“Regina,” he whispers. She presses her hand to his stomach and pushes the blood inside, willing it to disappear and go back where it belongs, back in, making him healthy and whole and hers.

“You don’t die, alright? You just don’t get to die on me now. It’s almost over,” she croaks, wipes away her tears with rage, and keeps going, “you don’t die until I let you, you – you promised, and we have to go to the steam caves, alright? You promised we’d be alright,” she wants to shake him, punch him, how dare he –

“I’m sorry, my love,” he murmurs, smiling at her. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.” He coughs, but she keeps him down, and maybe it’s nothing and maybe he’d need help – but she can’t bring herself to go and search help, what if he dies _just right now_ –

Mal lands next to them with a grunt, and Regina lifts her gaze, meets the dragon’s watchful eye. _Come now, little one. That’s enough_.

She balls her fists but nods, leans in to kiss him briefly and tells him “Hold on, just some more, darling,” and goes to climb on Mal’s back and watches as Mal pushes her wings down to get up. The dragon’s hand curls around his body, gently, lifting him up, and Regina forces herself not to watch as they reach higher skies, the sun lights up the world as Mal flies back, towards the Wall, towards home.

Her fire still burns on the field, the survivors burning the remaining bodies.

It is the end of the Dead, but her battle still rages, still hasn’t been won.

.:.

His mind is doing somersaults, his eyes open too fast, and when his head starts spinning, he closes them again.

“Ooof…”

“Not so fast,” a voice whispers from beside him. “Can you hear me?”

He feels her hand curling around his and he squeezes lightly, hears the blubbery laugh of his love. Regina is crying, he thinks, and that’s a shame – she’s cried enough to last for a lifetime.

“You idiot,” she hisses, a pity he can’t see her, but he can still imagine her looks – angry and relieved all together, holding back from killing him herself only because he’s barely came out from death… “I swear you’ve got some sort of hero complex. How in hell would someone think to throw themselves into the fire that was killing their enemies?”

“Mm sorry, R’gina,” he stutters, his whole side hurts, why does it hurt? He attempts to open his eyes again, sees a glimpse of her in the shadows.

“M’lady?” comes a voice from the door. (The door? They must be inside Castle Black, then.) “Lord… Mister Karstark wants you to know that the council is starting in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Olivia, I’ll be there in a moment,” she says. “Gods, we really need to work on this whole surnames thing .”

“Can… can I get up?” he asks, tentatively.

“Absolutely not. It’s bed rest for a week at least, my dear,” she tells him. “You’re not missing much anyway. The real work starts when we get back to Queen’s Landing.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be alright,” he promises, when she lingers on. “You go. Go and rule and do what you’re best at.”

.:.

_The world changes quickly._

_They send battalions of scouts across the Wall, towards the Wild Lands, to kill any blue-eyed man who survived. Mal doesn’t like them – they smell of ice and dirt, and they’re a creation of the gods gone wrong._

_They’re finally able to retrieve the missing dragon eggs – and she roars her joy to the sky, because soon she won’t be alone anymore, she will be able to fly with other of her species, and the dragons will see their glory again._

_They start a new democratic system in Westeros. Unlike Keith Lannister, Regina doesn’t want to hide behind a curtain of fake democracy – of dictatorship. So she commands elections for the people, they will choose a ruler, ending centuries of kings and queens and authorities._

_Robin takes Winterfell._

_Between the Lands, the North is the one more vexed by years of desolation and disregard._

_Mal longs to go back to Essos. But she cannot abandon her Rider, because the bond she has with Regina is stronger than her desire for deserts and sands. She will be content if she can spend some months in Dorne, and finally fly amongst the waves of the sea._

_The world changes and they’ve all changed. More like steel, now._

.:.

They’re in Winterfell when the news come.

Robin is tracing constellations across Regina’s skin – in the morning, the light of dawn pouring through the windows, her raven hair on her nude back, as she listens to the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

 _We’re here. Safe. Together_.

She thinks of that little sprout inside her belly, and smiles secretly against his skin – she hasn’t told him yet, because there’s no more rush now. In time, he’ll know – he’ll notice the gentle curve of her stomach grow and there won’t be the need for words.

And suddenly, there’s the noise of a raven who comes to land on the balcony; the old ways of communication that Robin still favors against the digital tech that can be corrupted so easily. He calls to the raven, and the bird flies to him, lands on his fingers and lets him take the message. Regina stirs lazily against him, her eyes lifting up when she sees his face.

“What is it?”

Dread fills her heart. A riot of the supporters of the Lannisters, or more blue-eyed men they’ve failed to track down, or –

“Relax, love,” Robin knows exactly what she’s thinking, and she’s half scared half amazed by this truth. “Good news. Well… at least I’m quite sure you’ll like them… _Madam President_.”

“What?”

Her whisper is almost broken as she props herself up.

“You heard that,” he chuckles. “Congratulations, Regina. You’ll be wonderful,” he leans in to kiss her, a brief smooch on her lips, then catches her confused eyes before she can even utter a word.

“I don’t understand… Why me?”

“It appears the people liked you way better than Keith Lannister, my love,” he says, squeezing her hand. “It’s alright, Regina. You are the right person for this. You’ve been ready all your life, love. Isn’t it time to bring House Targaryen back to its ancient glory?”

“I told you, I don’t care about the houses,” she mutters, looking down. With all his ability to read her, it’s stunning how Robin hasn’t noticed what her problem is.

She’s going to have to leave him.

And Winterfell, the only home she’s known.

And… separate a child from their father.

“I need to think about it,” she says, snatching her hand free. “I’ll see you later.”

.:.

She has gone for a walk, Regina.

Only Regina could ever think of going for a walk with the snow of the harsh winter still covering the ground. He finds her under the Red Tree, sitting on the stone bench, her eyes fixated on the frozen lake.

“May I sit?”

She nods, sinking further into her cloak.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’ve made my decision.”

He thinks his heart stops beating for a moment. He didn’t say anything earlier, because although he loves her more than life itself, he didn’t want to be the one to hold her back. But still – is he going to lose her?

“And?”

She takes a breath, turns to look at him. “And I’ll accept,” she says. Robin can’t help smiling, proud of her, always proud of her, but still it stings when he thinks of all the time they’ve already spent apart… “Robin,” she calls to him, knowing, she always knows. “I’ll accept, but I’m staying.”

“What?”

A warmth fills his heart as she comes to sit closer, beside him. Her eyes are so bright, she looks so fierce, so passionate, it makes him fall in love with her again.

“I’ll fly to Queen’s Landing when I’m needed. But I’m staying. We’ll make it work, Robin. This is my home – you’re my home – and I don’t want to give it up.”

“I can spend some time there as well,” he says, taking both her gloved hands, “I don’t want to be separated from you again. Not like that, not again. We’ll make it work,” he vows, and he firmly believes it.

She kisses him – takes the lapels of his coat and kisses him, under the tree, amongst the whispers of old and new gods. Of stories and ballads of their ancestors who defied their households to be together, and he finds he couldn’t care less of the past. They’re here now.

When they part, there’s a glint in her eyes. “You know, there’s something we must do first.”

His eyes are confused enough for her to explain.

“Before everything, before going south, we need to fly up north again. If I recall correctly, you did promise me a steam bath.”

 .


	2. Apricity (how I shine for you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for the oq update month. what people asked for: his reaction, and a steamy trip to the steam caves. rated M I guess?  
> title means: the warmth of the sun in winter.

They left on a crisp morning of still-winter, flying on Mal’s back towards the Wall.

There is no danger now – and yet as she feels Robin’s arms embracing her torso from behind, her knees pressing against Mal’s warm body, she feels strangely nervous.

She hasn’t seen him in a couple of weeks. He stays in Winterfell now, but she was officially elected President three weeks ago, and she had to be there. She had to delay this trip, which they’ve been waiting for since the battle.  
And then, after the election, Robin went back to the North, leaving her in Queen’s Landing to settle the first affairs. Her work will be exhausting and never-ending, but she has trusted advisors. She’s confident that she can leave them to worry about the country, while she takes a much needed week of vacation with her partner.

So they’ve collected food and supplies and she has saddled Mal, because flying on her bare back isn’t Robin’s favorite activity, and up north they went. Towards the steam caves, as he promised her months ago.

They’ve seen the dawn from above the Wall – she kissed him there, as the white land was being washed by pink and orange glows.

And they’re almost there, now, and she feels jittery, excited, and also a little frightened. (Not of him, never of him. But maybe, of his reaction.)

They say goodbye to Mal when they arrive – temporarily, because she’s going to fly alone for a bit, enjoying the quiet wintery air, and she’s going to join them when they make camp for the night. Or maybe they’ll end up camping in a cave. So Regina finds her hand curled around Robin’s, walking towards the steam caves they’ve, for so long, dreamed of.

“You alright, my love?”

Her heart swells, as it always does when he calls her that. “Yes, I’m fine,” she murmurs. Truth be told, she’s nervous.

She has decided that this is the right moment to tell him – about the baby, but… it still doesn’t feel real, because she fear his reaction, and the fact that she kept this secret from him, and it wasn’t fair, and –

“Regina,” his voice interrupts his thoughts. “You… lovely, can you leave my hand, please?”

He looks slightly amused, and she looks down to see where she’s holding – squeezing his hand. His skin is starting to become white, and she realizes, freeing him with a startled, “Sorry! I’m sorry, I… I was thinking.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He tilts his head, as he does when he’s studying her. But she shakes her head, because it can wait just a bit more.

“Let’s go.”

.

She loves to watch him undress. And the caves are so humid and hot, his torso is already glistening with sparkles of sweat, as he shimmies out of those winter clothes and furs. She loses herself into him, into watching him, her fingers lazily untying a know from her coat, until he raises his eyebrow.

“See something you like, Madam President?”

She laughs at that – it still doesn’t feel right, to call herself that, she isn’t used to it, after being held captive for so long. She nears him, her still-gloved hands passing slowly on his forearms.

“Definitely, Lord Stark,” she teases back. “I see a… wonderful… inviting… sexy… pool of steam, just there,” she smiles, motions towards it with her chin. “And I can’t wait to… _sink_ into it,” she adds, finding she can’t resist, and watches as his eyes darken.

“You minx,” he groans. “Well let’s go then. But first… I’d like to undress you, as I can see I have… distracted you.”

“Go ahead,” she says, closes her eyes, and waits until she feels his hands on her. He’s slow, torturing her with kisses on her neck, on her back, and she’s actually hot now, sweating, moaning under the light touches of his hands. She’s already aroused and they haven’t even started yet.

“Gods, Robin,” she moans again, her hand going up to the back of his neck, he says nothing, but continues the sweet exploration as she buckles under his gentle power over her, as she knows – she knows the fact he’s so kind and yet passionate is the reason she has gifted her soul to him, as he did to her.

She waits trembling as he frees her from her cape, her pants and boots, leaving all bundled in a pile on the floor, but she doesn’t care. The pool is still there, she can hear it bubbling, a natural bath tub waiting for them.

“Let’s take a bath,” he whispers against her lower back. How did he get there so silently, she doesn’t know. A current of shivers starts from the point where his lips touched her and goes up her spine.

She feels his fingers intertwining with her, and she doesn’t need to look to know she’s nude. But now, she leads. He follows her to the pool, stopping right next to it as he leaves her to take a first step in the hot water. Her blood runs hot, though, as the blood of Targaryens does, and the pool’s water is not scorching – but pleasant, she thinks, as she lowers herself down until her foot touches the deep end. Robin goes too, sinking next to her, less gradually, but drags her down –

kisses her underwater, and she’s sorry she can’t see him, but feels his hands on her back, in her hair. As he goes up to catch some air, she follows.

The laugh is spontaneous and free, as Regina pants, feeling silly and deliciously happy. “I needed this,” she says, completely honest now, always with him. “I needed to forget for a while.” 

He draws circles, paths of air with his thumbs just above the skin of her hand. “What did you want to forget, my love?”

She sighs, averts her eyes. He went to sit on a protrusion, underwater, so he tells her, _Come here_.

Right. They’re doing this now, so she doesn’t get too distracted by the post-coital haze. Now, while she’s still somewhat lucid.

.

He feels her head pressing slightly on his shoulder, for a moment, as she goes to lean on him, her back against his chest. Then she lifts slightly, turns her head to face him. To his surprise, a smile starts to open on her face.

“I… knew since before the battle,” she says. It’s still timid, that smile, and if he slides two fingers above the inner of her wrist, he can feel her heart thumping. “I’m sorry, Robin… I wanted to tell you, but then I was worried we’d die, or…” she takes a deep breath, the smile almost gone now. He can see her trying to calm down, to rein emotions in.

He gives her time.

He waits, waits until she’s ready to tell him what he suspected since a few weeks.

“Robin… I’m pregnant.”

.

Here it goes. She says it, and it’s like a massive weight has been lifted from her heart, but adrenaline runs through her veins. He stares at her, and her anxiety grows and grows, because he is still silent. Time elapses and seconds dilate, and then…

“You’re… pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“As in… we are having a baby?”

Regina fiddles with her hands, gulps down. “Yes, we are.”

And suddenly, she is engulfed in a hug, so tight it knocks the wind out of her lungs, and he says into her ear, _Oh, Regina_ , she presses her nose on his shoulder and feels tears gather up in her eyes again. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, “I found out, and there was the battle, and I just – couldn’t tell you right away, I was… terrified,” she hiccups.

“I know, lovely, it’s okay,” he says. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispers. Then she pulls out of his embrace, keeps him close as she asks, “are you happy?”

“Am I… am I happy,” he smiles at her, “Regina, I’ve never been happier,” he trails his thumb on her cheek, looks at her, inquisitive. “Are you?”

“God, yes,” she answers, because she is, she has just… she was scared, that day, when she found out that maybe she was going to be a mother without him or that this baby wasn’t going to see the light at all…

He kisses her forehead, her eyes close to the touch, then she feels his hand move underwater, press above her belly. “Why hello, there,” he murmurs. “How far along are you then?” he asks, questioning, eyes still fixated on her stomach that he can’t see in the dimmed light.

“Almost three months,” she says. “Mal was sure. She was quite angry, because I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You did what you thought was best,” he agrees. Then, he smiles, again, his eyes lighting up of love and affection, before he leans in to kiss her. And she hasn’t kissed him in weeks until now, and she has missed it, missed him, missed everything about his hands in her hair and his scent and his everything. He draws her closer, murmuring _Regina_ in between kisses, so she tugs at his hair and kisses him some more, because she can now.

Because he feels like home – him, her and the baby.

Just what she needs.

.

Her kisses are growing bolder, deeper, her hands cup his cheeks and she has him moan against her mouth. She’s a marvel, his Regina, she was a vision even in that cape earlier, but she’s far better like this. Unburdened and free.

She still smells like soap and like that perfume that is unequivocally hers, his hand in her hair, messing it up… _Regina_ , he breathes against her mouth. The water sloshes around, reminding him of where they are – that they’re not in the castle, they’re alone. The feeling of her skin and her touches and her lips is enough to make his cock stir, to make him sweat and desire her more than ever. But…

“Babe,” he pants, breaks the kiss. “Wait…”

“What is it?” she asks, tilts her head, questions him. He sees the shadow of a small fear in her eyes – of rejection? How can she think he’d ever – now – and tries to stop that fear from expanding.

“Nothing, don’t worry,” he murmurs, busses her lips. “But you’re…”

“Pregnant?” she ends for him. “Don’t be silly,” she tells him, “I won’t – god – I won’t, nothing will happen, I want you so much, Robin, please.”

He cups her cheek, drowning in those brown eyes he loves so much. “You’re absolutely certain? We can wait, we can… just have a bath and enjoy this place.”

“I am,” she interrupts. “I need you, I need – I need this. I need to feel you close again, I missed you so much these past weeks.”

“Mm,” he smiles back. He brings her hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed you too… everything about you, if I’m being honest. The way you smile…” he sees her doing just that, and chuckles, “yes, exactly,” he tells her, affectionately. “The way you make me smile,” he adds, and kisses her on her lips, their forehead touching. His hands lifts to cup her breast. “The way you respond to my touch…”

“R-Robin,” she breathes against him, her eyes closed. He thinks she’s trembling… “Let’s…”

“Yes, my love?”

“Let’s…” his other hand circles her hip, her breast presses on his fingers, her nose nuzzles his. “Please, oh, don’t… I don’t want to wait anymore…”

“I want you so much,” he answers, low. “I wanted you since hours…”

“Since the flight?” she asks, lets out a small moan when he starts toying with her still-hidden nipple. “Yes, keep… keep doing that…”

“Since the flight,” he confirms. “I admit I was a tad… uncomfortable, having you all pressed against me… and I’m pretty sure any action would have been against flying guidelines.”

“Oh, and you would know about flying, wouldn’t you?” she whispers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I know enough,” he says, ever so confident. “I know you… I know I want to eat you out,” he tells her, and Regina laughs of a rich sound he has missed a lot.

“You literally have me sitting in your lap,” she says, motions down.

“But then I can’t eat you out like that,” he reasons, tangling a hand in her hair, and nearing his lips to her neck. “I’ll have to play the gentleman,” he murmurs, then presses a kiss on her skin, two, three, until she’s arching her back to the touch. “I’ll have to… settle with sinking my cock into you…”

Regina brings her arms up to circle his neck, she bends down, sucks. Her chest presses against him, her fingers grasping lightly at his hair. “And it – it’s enough for now?”

“What,” he asks, distracted.

“Having me on top…”

“Can’t you feel it right now?” he tells her, and just then he realizes how much he’s hard, how much he wants her and needs her right now.

“I feel me,” she says – he pulls back to look at her, and sees her fingers curl around his wrist, making him touch where she’s so warm and he can only imagine wet and ready, but he won’t feel the wetness, just the water.

“God, Regina,” he groans, kisses her, cups her there, and he wants that water gone, gone, wants her bare and spread and he has missed her.

“Take me,” she pants, leaves his mouth to kiss his neck. “Please, Robin, take me, no more waiting…” She groans, her urgency could be amusing on any other time, if it wasn’t deeply reciprocated by himself in this moment. “Take me now.”

“As you wish,” he tells her. She shifts, straddles him. “God,” he moans. “You are so beautiful,” he tells her, reverent. And she is, it feels like it’s her soul to be as bare as her body, and he needed this, this overdue reconnection. Regina cups his cheek, her eyes hungry as she nears for a kiss, has him moan against her mouth and his entire being craving for more, more time with her, more of everything.

“I want you,” she says, serious, once they’ve parted. “I want you, this week. I want you to do everything you’ve dreamed to do during the time we’ve spent apart… I mean all of it. Even… before the battle.”

“You sure?” he hums, tracing her lips with his thumb.

“I want to feel you, for real,” she says.

“Oh, lovely,” he kisses her again, tangling his hand in her hair. He finds her hot, warm as it can be, when he cups her slowly, she presses on his hand and he gladly concedes some friction. Having Regina so ready and eager is really making him feel the desire, painfully so…

“I still want to eat you out, later,” he whispers in her ear. She shakes her head, rocking her hips up and down against the fingers he has inside her.

“Can’t you feel how ready I am? I need you,” she pants, “inside, Robin, please… you can go down on me later, now leave it be, I really, really need…”

When he abandons her abruptly, she almost shrieks, almost, a pained thing, then he parts her legs more,  and she quickly spreads herself for him. He keeps looking at her as he directions himself, she bites her lower lip and god, if that doesn’t end him, nothing will. She looks down to the water as he enters her, lets out a satisfied _Yess, Robin, ye_ s, when he buries himself inside.

“Touch yourself, love,” he pleads, his hands on her thighs, she nods, her fingers rubbing her clit as she starts pumping slowly against him, undulating, her hands pushing on his shoulders.  

“Ooh, god,” she moans, a noise that goes straight to his cock, “god, yes, faster…”

“I love you so much,” he tells her, “love the way you feel around me, god you’re so tight, so perfect, Regina, I…”

“Fuck me,” she says, never the one for subtleties, “enough talking, please, fuck me, Robin, please –”

“I don’t want – to hurt you,” he pants, his hands around her hips, because she’s going slow, still, but he knows she isn’t satisfied, and he can’t bring himself to go too rough…

“You won’t,” she assures. “Please,” her eyes on him do the trick, her pupils exceedingly dilated in arousal, her warmth around his cock, and then he starts moving, moves faster and feels her hands on his hands as she rides him.

But the angle isn’t quite right, he knows, her teeth worrying her lip, her forehead frowning, so she slows down, and he nods, shifting a bit towards her, and this works, this has her writhing and moaning in all the right places. His fingers find her nipples and start toying with them, Regina tosses back her hair and rides him, now, up and down and each time she moans in pleasure, each time she sinks down again, then slams her hand on the stone of the pool and inclines her head down to his shoulder and finally starts blabbering.

“Ohmygod please, Robin please I need to come, ohmygod yes, touch me, I need your hand, please my love touch me…”

She’s doing all the work now, so the least he can do is pushing a finger on her clit and trying to please her. Her hand surrounds his shoulder, her nails dig into his skin, she’s so close, he can feel it.

“Babe, come on me,” he tells her, “come on, love, I want to feel you come, I need…”

Regina’s thighs are trembling against his, _So close_ , she cries, it’s definitely weird to be underwater for this, but a good… kind of weird. So he puts his hands on her hips to slow her down, the thrusts become more rhythmical and controlled as he rubs on her clit, has her clenching and screaming as they give a final powerful push – she comes, her expression so satisfied it looks almost painful, and after a long moment, he comes as well.

His heartbeat is still fast when she collapses on top of him, her hair tickling his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.

“I love you,” she murmurs, so low he could miss it. They try to steady their breaths and to calm down, in the blissful afterglow.

They’re miles from home, but still he feels like he’s home, finally. He circles Regina’s shoulder and holds her, suddenly tired, still inside that delightful spot of hers, and thinks that now he really has everything he needs, as long as she’s with him.

“Gods, I’m so glad we came here.”

“Oh don’t worry, darling,” she whispers. “We can make it a tradition.”


End file.
